


Orgasmus

by OhCaptainMyCaptain



Series: Stucky Porn Prompt Challenge [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, All the power goes to Bucky, Anal, Anal Beads, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky, Bottom Steve, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cock Rings, Dirty Talk, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Even BEFORE the war, Forced Orgasm, He may be the sub but he's the one who made all this happen, Kinks, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Riding Crops, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Stucky Porn Prompt Challenge, Sub Bucky Barnes, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, Vibrators, Warnings: NSFW GIFS/images at the end of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhCaptainMyCaptain/pseuds/OhCaptainMyCaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>DAY TEN: BDSM WITH DOM!STEVE + SUB!BUCKY + AFTERCARE + FEELS</b>
</p><p>It had always felt like his life was nothing but decision-making; what with work, taking out the dames, making ends meet all the time at home - Bucky was always expected to have the answers. That’s how society told him he needed to be. When he was at home, though, things were different. The second his shoes came off and that front door was closed, the only thing Bucky had always wanted was for someone to take care of <em>him</em>.</p><p>Not ‘someone’, not really. Steve. Bucky wanted <em>Steve</em> to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orgasmus

**Author's Note:**

> Before reading this installment, PLEASE read my [meta](http://ohcaptainmycaptain1918.tumblr.com/post/94847702334/dont-you-think-its-a-little-bit-bad-weird) on the topic of top/dom!Steve and sub/bottom!Bucky POST Winter Soldier. I like to think I explain everything pretty clearly there, although many of those elements are touched up on in this fic itself. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been sending me prompts, kinks, etc. for this 30 Day Stucky Challenge. I've gotten some really damn good ones, so feel free to continue to send me your requests either here, or on my [Tumblr](http://ohcaptainmycaptain1918.tumblr.com/)
> 
> **I do not own any characters, settings, plot lines, concepts, or terminology as created, used, and owned by Marvel Entertainment, LLC ®. This is a work of fanfiction. Furthermore, I do not authorize the re-distribution of this story for the purposes of downloading, printing, or posting the story in its entirety on any other websites without first attaining my consent. Thank you.**

**Prologue**

It had started off subtly.

_“Hey Steve, I’ve got my hands full – can you grab that?”_

_“Christ Almighty, my neck’s stiff as hell; I think I pulled somethin’ while I was hauling that crate around earlier. Be a pal and rub it for me, would ya?”_

_“Edith’s expectin’ me to look nice, Stevie. So which should I go with – jacket or no jacket?”_

It had always felt like his life was nothing but decision-making; what with work, taking out the dames, making ends meet all the time at home - Bucky was always expected to have the answers. That’s how society told him he needed to be. When he was at home, though, things were different. The _second_ his shoes came off and that front door was closed, the only thing Bucky had always wanted was for someone to take care of _him_.

Not ‘someone’, not really. Steve. Bucky wanted _Steve_ to take care of him.

Steve had been different back then; less skittish, less careful. Bucky supposes he _could_ have just fessed up to Steve in the beginning and told him exactly what he’d wanted, but he’d been too much of a coward. Steve was always the only stable thing he’d ever had going for him and the idea of losing that because his best friend might have thought him a freak was enough to douse out the flames – enough, of course, that Bucky couldn’t bring himself to ever talk about it, but not enough to stop him from seeking it out completely.

Steve felt he had more to prove back then, too. His need to overcompensate turned out to be Bucky’s greatest asset because it meant that Steve never looked too deeply into anything Bucky asked of him. Bucky needed Steve’s help opening a stubborn jar, even though that made little sense because Bucky was always _far_ superior in physical strength than Steve could ever be? Nope, no problem – Steve only saw it as an opportunity to show his worth. Bucky couldn’t decide between shirts? Steve would somehow know better, even with his colour blindness. Bucky couldn’t seem to make them a single meal without needing Steve’s taste-test and approval before loading the plates with what little they scrounged up? All of that seemed perfectly normal.

Steve had always made Bucky feel safe. Bucky had often thought – _and still does_ – that he trusted his best friend better than he even trusted himself, and sometimes, it’d been so fucking hard not to have been able to just come right out and confess how much he adored that goddamned kid. Steve brought out this overwhelming _need_ in Bucky to be looked after – something he could easily mask in the role-reversal they found themselves in in their day-to-day lives, what with Steve’s sickness and his body’s fragility.

For _months_ , Bucky would find excuses to ask Steve for his help with things… And somewhere along the line, without even having to be told, Steve had been able to put two and two together. Bucky should’ve known it would happen eventually; Steve’s clever and Bucky’s always been completely transparent to him, unable to hide anything for very long. And slowly, Steve had started reacting and giving Bucky more, just as subtly as Bucky had done to him.

It would start with little things, like Steve crawling into Bucky’s cot if Bucky was having a hard time sleeping, and holding the older man to his front – even though Bucky was a good couple heads taller. Didn’t matter; Bucky would go pliant and relish in being the little spoon while Steve would bury his nose in Bucky’s hair and breathe softly against the back of his neck until Bucky was either falling asleep or fighting a raging hard-on.

Steve would give his opinion on Bucky’s clothes – not an _insistence_ , not at first anyways – before Bucky would even have to ask. It was fucked, really, the way that hearing what Steve preferred him in filled Bucky with so much _relief_ that it bordered on physical pleasure. He’d never be able to shake the smile from his face while he got changed, knowing that he was putting on the pants, or the shirt, or the tie, or the shoes that Steve had inadvertently picked out.

Then things had started to change. Bucky can’t recall exactly when that was – because it was certainly never something they’d spoken about leading up to it – but he will never forget the earliest memory he can trace it back to. It’d been when he had come home from a long day of work and actually _did_ have a knot in his shoulder. They were past the point where Bucky needed to hint at what he wanted; somewhere along the way, there had been an unspoken agreement made that all Bucky had needed to do was sit at Steve’s feet and ask to get a massage.

Sometimes, Steve made him wait, and Bucky didn’t know why, but those moments always made him achingly hard in his slacks – being denied what he wanted and knowing that he’d never argue Steve on it, not ever. He’d just wait patiently and hold off on his usual smart-ass remarks until the sweet, painful pressure of the blond’s fingers _finally_ pressing into his spots of tension had him groaning under his breath; resonating all the way to his cock and making him feel guilty as hell.

But then _that one time_ … Bucky had sat down and politely asked Steve if he could rub his shoulders, and Steve immediately put down the book he’d been reading and replied, “Sure, Buck. Take off your shirt, yeah?” As his fingers expertly worked out the kinks in Bucky’s muscles, he’d suddenly gone rigid and lost all the breath in his lungs when he felt Steve start mouthing softly at the back of his neck.

He hadn’t known how to react; he wanted to touch Steve and turn in towards those lips but he realized that Steve hadn’t given him _permission_ to move, and in that single moment, Bucky understood just how addicted he was to being under Steve’s control. Life was blissful for him when his best friend made all the decisions so Bucky didn’t have to – all he had to do was _let_ Steve, _trust_ him; because he’d always known without doubt that Steve would never do a thing in the world to hurt Bucky.

He’d almost come from that alone that day. He’d clenched his fists to the ground so tightly that the knuckles had started to ache – it’d been so fucking hard not to touch – as he breathed shakily through parted lips and let his head fall forward. Steve had continued to dig and circle and smooth out the tension with his fingers while he sucked lightly around Bucky’s nape and scraped his teeth over the flesh. The one and only time Bucky couldn’t help himself from moaning, it’d turned into a surprisingly passionate stutter of a cry when he was rewarded with a gentle, loving kiss beneath his ear.

Nothing else had happened that day. Steve had eventually finished and then told Bucky he could put his shirt on, and – confused – Bucky had done what he was told. They didn’t talk about it, but Bucky found his quickest excuse to race to the building’s showers and fuck his fist until he came thinking of Steve no more than thirty seconds later. Things hadn’t changed between them, but it was around that time that Bucky can remember himself realizing that he might’ve been in _love_ with his best friend.

About two weeks later had been the night when Bucky had known for certain – and not only that, but that Steve _reciprocated_. Because when Steve had woken up and realized Bucky was jerking off as silently as he could manage from the safety of his own cot, Steve hadn’t ignored it and hadn’t fallen back to sleep like he’d done in the past. No, he’d quietly approached Bucky’s bed and slipped in behind him, taking up his regular spot now as the big spoon. And as his lips had found their way back to Bucky’s neck – Bucky, frozen, with his hand stilled around his erection – he’d slid his hand down between the brunet’s thighs and whispered, “Let me help you…”

And _fuck_ , if that wasn’t the only thing Bucky had ever wanted… for Steve to take proper care of him, in every way imaginable.

That brought them to a point where Steve eventually sat Bucky down and asked to know _why_ Bucky liked Steve doing all those things for him – got his rocks off on Steve acting as though Bucky was incapable of taking care of himself. Bucky hadn’t known how to explain it, and he’d only gotten frustrated when he tried. Maybe Steve had more than one motive back then. Maybe part of the reason he got off on it, too, was because of how powerful it made _him_ feel in his otherwise powerless life. But more than _anything_ , Steve only ever wanted to make Bucky happy. So when he did Bucky a kindness and shut him up before Bucky’s nonsensical babbling would work him to tears, _that_ was the first time they’d ever kissed.

After that, they fell into a routine. If they were out and about together, Bucky was his usual self. He worked the days away and talked Steve into accompanying him on double dates, and any time they were in the presence of a girl, Bucky was all charm and confidence and control. But the second they were back home, _alone_ , Steve made the orders. At Bucky’s request, Steve started deciding nearly _everything_ for him; he picked out Bucky’s clothes, told him when to hold his tongue – even told him when he was and was _not_ allowed to come if Steve had his mouth or hands on him (or his cock buried _inside_ ofhim). He even fed him sometimes.

Whenever they could get away with it, they’d shower together _just_ so Bucky could close his eyes and feel the way Steve washed his hair with gentle fingers as though Bucky were a child. If Steve was sketching, Bucky would sit at his feet and read, or smoke, or just talk to him right from his spot on the floor. He liked it there – almost as much as he liked resting his head on his best friend’s lap and listening to Steve read to him while his hair was played with and carded through, making him shiver. Steve never judged him for wanting the things he wanted, and the more comfortable Bucky felt about being himself – with Steve taking care of him – the more comfortable he eventually grew to voicing some of his more… _profane_ desires.

It had taken some time, though. Steve hadn’t been fully comfortable with spanking him the first time Bucky had asked him to do it - but when he’d felt Bucky’s prick go off from between his thighs and mess up his legs with his orgasm by the twelfth consecutive hit, he’d started to come around to the idea. In the beginning, he’d apologize afterwards, or _Bucky_ would apologize during… For being so fucked up, for asking Steve to do those things, for tainting him. They worked through everything together and one thing that only ever reiterated how safe Bucky felt with Steve was how Steve never tried anything Bucky wanted unless they thoroughly discussed it first.

Through experimentation and the process of elimination, together they would find what worked and didn’t. There had been ideas in Bucky’s head that had _seemed_ good at the time, until they’d actually been implemented. Likewise, there were things that Steve had agreed to try that he _immediately_ couldn’t stomach doing to Bucky once actually having _done_ it. They never hesitated to say something the moment it no longer felt good, and it worked so well because the other never fought it – never even tried. And no matter _how_ badly Bucky begged Steve to hurt him, and no matter _how_ rough with him Steve got when he complied, things would always end with the blond laving his entire body with kisses as he murmured about how _good_ Bucky was; how much Steve loved him.

Steve would go from debasing him to worshipping him, and _everything_ that boy did to Bucky was done out of love, and it always left Bucky feeling as though he were split open - giving Steve everything he had to offer and leaving _nothing_ behind.

Of course, there had been the odd times where Steve had difficulty accepting that his needs were just as dark and fucked up as Bucky’s were; days (especially Sundays) where the blond would hole up in their bedroom and pray, or say they had to stop doing those things, or got angry and tried to fight his tears while he swore up and down that he was blasphemous and going to Hell. Bucky never pushed him, even when the idea of losing the subjugation he so badly craved was a very real possibility. The only reason it felt so good was because they’d both wanted it. Bucky was realistic enough to understand how wrong it would’ve been for him to guilt Steve into continuing with something he no longer felt right about doing.

But that was never the case, because Steve _did_ want it, and they always fell back into their depraved addiction for each other… And on a night one December when Bucky had had his wrists tied behind his back and his ankles bound, he’d watched with blown pupils and a sense of worship that he knew he’d _never_ find in any God, as Steve had slowly ridden his fucked out body and was hit with some sort of revelation.

Something within Steve fell into place – some sort of acceptance of what they were doing and making peace with it and his God – and then the fire in his eyes had ignited brighter and stronger than Bucky had ever seen it before. It hadn’t mattered that his body had been over stimulated with a half dozen orgasms already (three of which were forced so, so sweetly)… When Steve had anchored his hands to Bucky’s chest and was suddenly rolling his hips in a way that had Bucky gasping, all Steve had to do was breathlessly order Bucky to come _again_ , and Bucky listened.

Steve had stopped questioning it after that. And for a couple more precious years – until a certain super serum changed many things about Steve, _particularly_ the way he felt comfortable about touching Bucky – Bucky walked the fine line between the reality where he was the man society expected him to be, and the dream he never wanted to wake up from where he _lived_ and _breathed_ for his best friend.

* * *

After everything Bucky had been through at HYDRA’s hands, the hardest part about trying to re-establish who he was and feel _normal_ again wasn’t actually coming to terms with everything he’d done and faced – although that _had_ been a bitch to come through (mostly) unscathed. It was struggling to feel like Bucky Barnes again while Steve insisted he be treated like glass. 

It’s not like that had been new or anything; Steve treating him with kid gloves seemed to have been a switch that was turned on the second he’d rescued Bucky from that Hydra slab back in ’43. Though he was no longer the same little punk from Brooklyn that Bucky had always known, Steve had still been _Steve_ – it wasn’t as though Erskine’s experiment had suddenly erased the man and replaced him with someone else. Whether he was 5’4” or 6’2”, Steve Rogers had _still_ been a stubborn punk with absolutely _zero_ sense of self-preservation.

But the way he treated others – namely Bucky… now _that_ had changed.

It probably hadn’t helped that their reunion involved Bucky having been a POV in need of saving; he supposed that if the shoe had been on the other foot, maybe _he_ would’ve been all the more protective of Steve’s well-being, too. But Steve wasn’t just Steve anymore; he’d also become _Captain America, leader of the Howling Commandos, enemy to Hydra, face of the good ole’ US of A._

Steve had always been sort of the solemn type - definitely could’ve smiled more while growing up - but he was by no means as cautious and serious as he’d been in the war. His number one priority was always his men and keeping them safe. If there was an opportunity for him to put his own hide on the line so no one else had to, he did it (much to Bucky’s fury).

And the thing was, Bucky _had_ been to the seventh circle of Hell and back while at Zola’s hands, but he hadn’t been broken. He wasn’t a child, and he proved himself constantly on the battlefield, being Captain America’s right-hand man who broke necks and manned the sniper, clearing the way and doing the dirty work time and time again. Often, he purposely overdid things _just_ to try and prove to Steve – _who still_ was _his Steve, fucking damn it, he didn’t care if Steve hardly acted like it anymore_ – that he wasn’t made of glass. He could run through the ringer just as hard as the Captain could and come out in one piece.

They’d still fucked and were intimate during that time; Bucky would’ve probably put his gun to his head from frustration if they hadn’t, or at least _threatened_ to. But it was never the same. Steve only ever touched him with gentle hands; fucking _apologized_ if he even so much as tugged on Bucky’s hair the slightest bit if the latter was on his knees, trying to suck him off. Bucky had tried to seduce him, tried to coerce him, even eventually _begged_ for it at some points – but Steve seemed too scared that his newly acquired strength would be too much for him. _That was different, Buck_ , he’d kept trying to tell him. _It was one thing for me to hurt you when I knew I couldn’t do any real damage – I could never actually_ hurt _you. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I did._

All Bucky had heard were excuses, but he’d tried to be understanding. Eventually, he’d just stopped hoping for it, and his mood gradually began to wither away for the worst. He knew it had been selfish, but he couldn’t help it. Steve was so preoccupied with being Captain America, and that was _fine_ – Bucky wasn’t conceited enough to even entertain the thought that he was somehow more important than saving the world.

He just felt empty at the fact that - despite the way Captain America’s number one priority was his men, and _Steve’s_ priority above even that was _still_ looking out for Bucky - Bucky was being denied the one thing he’d needed most. Still… _fuck_ … He _still_ lived and breathed for his Captain and would follow him anywhere. And he knew Steve loved him back just as much, and so he made do.

Then came the fall, and the Winter Soldier, and their _second_ reunion – and they never _could_ catch a break, could they, that _that_ reunion had been even worse than the first? In Steve’s defense, Bucky hadn’t made things easy when he’d finally showed up at the blond’s doorstep and was willing to stay with him. For months, he was a loose cannon who wouldn’t so much as let Steve within five feet, let alone let Steve touch him. But that’d been _different_ ; he hadn’t exactly been himself back then.

But Bucky was stronger than everyone gave him credit for, and over time, he shed the Asset’s skin more and more and regained his identity back. He’d never be the boy Steve knew before the war - but then again, Steve wasn’t that same kid either. But Bucky was still _Bucky_ and as he’d gained more of his memories back, likewise he’d remembered the things that Bucky _liked._

Steve, though… _fuck,_ did that man make it hard for him to do that. It didn’t matter that there eventually came a point where Bucky not only remembered that they’d used to be lovers but wanted to reignite that again – nope, Steve wouldn’t so much as _cuddle_ him for a good few weeks. It took about another _month_ for Steve to even entertain the idea of kissing him, and the only reason it hadn’t been dragged out longer was because eventually Bucky had had enough; pinned him to the wall with his metal arm and took what he wanted until Steve had no other choice but to kiss back.

Bucky was riding out a fairly severe case of the blue balls by the time the slow burning ( _so slow, fucking a snail’s pace, you’d think Rogers was a goddamn virgin_ ) foreplay _finally_ escalated to sex… And then, of course, Steve had _insisted_ that he bottomed. Bucky had actually gotten pretty pissed at that, but it was sex, and it was Steve, and it’d been _fucking forever_ , so he did it anyway. It was amazing, and Bucky had been pretty confident that after showing Steve how safe them being intimate was – Bucky had been so good, didn’t get triggered or anything _once_ – that the next time could have _Bucky_ on his back, just like the way it used to be.

Nope - not quite that easy, either. Because if Steve treated Bucky like glass back in the war, now he’d been treating Bucky like glass _that had been shattered and glued back together but was always at risk of breaking again._ Even by the time the rest of the Avengers could safely say that Bucky was 99.9% _Bucky Barnes_ again and only carried a _sliver_ of the Winter Soldier inside of him – that he’d never shake, and this he’d grown to accept – Steve _still_ treated him like he was different. He’d never fuck Bucky, only the other way around, and it drove Bucky crazy; even made him act out and throw childish tantrums sometimes. (He could blame _that_ on the Winter Soldier to save face.)

And then Bucky considered that maybe he’d been going about it entirely the wrong way. Maybe trying to be aggressive wasn’t the answer – and wasn’t _that_ a thing, that it was only once Bucky decided to approach the situation _passively_ that he finally made some progress. Because it turned out that sitting Steve down and explaining to him how he felt and _why_ he wanted what he did was much more effective than getting angry and trying to pin his boyfriend down, which only had ever led to an argument.

He opened up to Steve about how he’d felt back in the war and how much he missed feeling as though Steve was crazy about him; couldn’t wait to get his hands on his body. With a sinking feeling, he asked if it was because Steve was repulsed by his metal arm, to which Steve immediately grabbed that exact hand and exclaimed, “No! Not at all! Buck, how could you think I’d ever feel that way about you?”

Turns out – little to Bucky’s surprise – that Steve just didn’t want Bucky to feel like he was being taken advantage of again. Even when they’d found each other back in the war, because of Bucky’s circumstances, Steve hadn’t been able to shake the fear that if the fell back into old habits, he’d trigger something within Bucky… That he really _would_ hurt him and Bucky would be too scared to stop it… Or the worst assumption: that Bucky only wanted those things now because Hydra had _forced_ his brain to think that way.

Basically, Steve thought Bucky wanted it for all the wrong reasons.

“I’ve _always_ wanted it, idiot,” Bucky had replied gently. It was just as difficult in 2014 to explain as it had been in the 1937, but one thing that’d also changed about Bucky was his sense of cowardice – or now, lack thereof. If Hydra had taught him anything in the aftermath of his recovery, it was that his filter had been obliterated. Bucky had spent too many years being told he wasn’t allowed to _want_ or _speak_ that now, being back where he felt safest, he said exactly what was on his mind and he never cared _how_ bold it was.

The most important things he felt he needed to stress to his best friend were: that Steve made him feel human again, and the way Steve used to treat him was _nothing_ like the way he was treated at Hydra’s hands. “You love me, and you respect me,” he said. “You only did what I wanted you to do, and I knew you’d never take advantage of that.”

Because being at Steve’s mercy, that wasn’t the same at all. What they’d had – _what they still had_ – gave Bucky’s life purpose; made him feel special. He wanted that back because he couldn’t imagine his life – _his_ , not the Winter Soldier’s – without it.

Things hadn’t turned around and changed instantaneously. The talk did wonders, though, in that Steve allowed Bucky to bottom for the first time that same night. It’d been such a relief and felt so fucking good that Bucky had howled the entire time he was getting pounded into, and when he begged for it to be _harder, faster, more, Steve…_ Steve had actually _given_ it to him, bless that fucking saint.

As the months passed, and they continued to discuss it in greater length, Bucky helped coax Steve back around to the idea of dominating him in the privacy of their own apartment again. Bucky knew Steve was like a startled rabbit now at the idea of bringing him pain, so he opted to start slow with non-sexual activities; things Steve wouldn’t feel guilty over, such as bathing him or washing his hair. When his ratty tresses were knotted, he’d bring a brush to wherever Steve was and sit at his feet without a word. Then he’d close his eyes and sigh happily while he felt the wonderful sensation of Steve patiently and gingerly brushing his hair soft again; taking care of him. When he felt his hair could use a trim, or he wanted to shave his stubble, he never trusted anyone else for the task and he refused to do it himself. It always had to be Steve.

Little jobs like that started to not only build Steve’s comfort levels back up, but Bucky suspected it also brought back that sense of power that Steve had been so reliant on back in his skinny days. Steve might not have been able to say it, but Bucky could: Steve _loved_ feeling in control. He _loved_ telling Bucky what to do and _got off_ on giving an order that Bucky was so quick and willing to follow.

And Bucky thought that was just about the sexiest quality Steve had.

So maybe it was only a _little_ surprising – but a whole fuck-ton thrilling – when Bucky had been changing one day, fresh out of the shower and damp hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and Steve had been lying on their bed, only to watch the ex-Assassin pull a white shirt over his head and hesitantly mumble, “You should wear the black one today; the one with the v-neck.”

Bucky had stopped; shirt halfway tugged down his abdomen and showing off the bottom half of his abs, treasure trail disappearing into his shorts. He wasn’t sure if the comment was what it _sounded_ like, because that wasn’t the way Steve used to give his orders. It was much more nervous, almost doubtful. It got Bucky hard anyways and he switched shirts without a second thought. He didn’t comment on the little smile he saw tug up one corner of Steve’s mouth either, because he didn’t want to scare it away.

It took patience and whole hell of a lot of time – and no shortage of too-quick apologies and Steve breaking character the _second_ he thought he was going overboard – but Steve slowly returned to Bucky in the way Bucky needed most, until they were once again comfortable the moment their door was closed and they were alone again with Steve calling the shots and Bucky following them faithfully.

Now… _now._

Now, the best part (though there are many vying for the spot of number one) is not how fucking _great_ the future is in terms of creative toys that Steve can use to get Bucky drooling - it’s that they’re finally on equal ground, physically. Steve isn’t small and frail anymore, and Bucky isn’t the weaker human standing next to some scientifically-enhanced super soldier. They’ve both been guinea pigs – pumped full of chemicals to fuck up their genetic coding – and now they’re practically equal in strength.

In layman’s terms? Steve can really wail on Bucky and it’d never be too rough. And Bucky _knows_ that Steve loves the fact that Bucky can heal almost as fast as him _just_ as much as Bucky does. Sure, sometimes Steve falls back into old habits and has his moments where he goes quiet; can’t seem to swallow or make peace with the fact that he likes giving it to Bucky just as much as his best friend likes taking it. And yeah, maybe it gets a little annoying when they’re right in the middle of it and Bucky wants nothing more than for Steve to hit him a little, call him a slut, and the _second_ Steve does it he’s suddenly touching him tenderly and quickly whispering, “ _I’m sorry – are you okay?_ ”

Because _yes_ , Bucky is fucking okay – he’s goddamn _perfect_ – but _thanks, Rogers, now you’ve spoiled the mood and killed my boner._

Still, he gets why Steve does it and why checking in is so important for him. If anything, it just reminds Bucky why he could never be in safer hands. It makes him crave it _more_ , breaking Steve out of his shell and watching his lover free himself, where the rest of world can’t pretend to know or judge them. Steve is fucking glorious when he lets go. Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to figure out how he ever deserved him.

Their safety word is ‘Hydra’.

* * *

“Sir… Sir… _oh god_ … Please… Please, I need…” 

Another sharp sting on his ass; Bucky’s back arches as much as possible with his wrists and ankles bound to the four corners of the bed. The blow causes the vibrator shoved inside of his ass to jiggle almost painfully against his prostate, and he can’t, he can’t, _shit, no_ , he’s been strung out like this with that fucking monster inside of him for almost a half hour, he can’t fucking hold out anymore.

“Steve… _Steve_ …”

“Excuse me?” Steve’s voice comes sudden and sharper than the spanking, somewhere behind Bucky to his left. Bucky realizes his mistake and opens his mouth to correct himself when Steve grabs the handle of the toy and starts fucking him with it, fast and brutal. Bucky gets one good scream out before he feels it ram all the way back to the hilt and then _just left there_. For a second, he thought Steve was going to let him come. It was a stupid thing to hope for.

Steve trails his fingers up the sweaty arch of Bucky’s spine. Bucky turns his head – hardly able to see past all the damp hair clinging to his face – and whines softly when he sees how hard and _leaking_ Steve’s flushed erection is. All he wants to do is wrap his lips around it and make Steve feel good.

The look on Steve’s face is enough to make Bucky have to bite his lip and hold his breath to keep from shooting off before he’s been given permission. Because _that_ look right there, the hardness in those baby blues, the way Steve is carrying himself – it’s both _not Steve Rogers at all_ , and _exactly_ who that man is inside. He’s fucking beautiful, and Bucky wants his dick inside of him, and it isn’t _fair._

The blond leans down and caresses the strands of hair off of Bucky’s face, making Bucky moan at the touch. The vibrator is still thrumming inside of his ass and his left buttock stings sweetly, and he’s one big mess of overstimulation and conflicting desires. He wants Steve to cut him open and lick up the blood, but he also wants to be turned over so Steve can kiss him. He wants Steve to deny him the right to come until he’s crying and shouting his pleas, and yet the other half of him hopes that Steve will force his body to climax enough times that it starts to _hurt_.

“Where are we?” Steve asks gently; talking to Bucky like a daft child. Bucky keeps his eyes on him, panting softly, and clears his throat to answer.

“Our bedroom.”

“What do you call me when we’re in here?” Steve asks next, tracing the fullness of Bucky’s bottom lip with his thumb. Bucky moans and tries to tilt his chin down so he can suck it into his mouth. Steve makes a small sound of annoyance and grabs his jaw. “Hey,” he says firmly, forcing Bucky to look back up at him. “No. I asked you a question – _answer_ it.”

He waits until Steve loosens up on his jaw to say, “I call you Sir.”

“Do you call me ‘ _Steve_ ’?” he asks, spitting out the name as though it weren’t even his own.

“No, Sir.”

“Do that again and I’ll make sure you’re too sore to sit for a week.”

Bucky moans again - this time louder - and involuntarily rocks his hips into the mattress with little finesse. The motion grinds the vibrator to his prostate again and he stutters, worried for a moment that that might send him over the edge. Steve’s features lose their softness as his eyes snap to Bucky’s rocking hips. Rising quickly, he walks out of Bucky’s line of sight, filling the brunet up with a delicious fear and anticipation. Just to be a little shit, he _keeps_ humping against the bed, and Steve had better stop him soon or he’s going to fucking come and then it’d be just as much _his_ fault as Bucky’s.

“Did I say you could come, Buck?” Steve demands before bringing his belt down across Bucky’s lower back.

Bucky grunts loudly, limbs momentarily pulling against their bonds as his whole body goes taut.

“Answer me.”

Another blow, this time on the back of his calf. Each slap of leather on skin sends a jolt of pleasure spooling up Bucky’s spine, giving him goosebumps. He breathes roughly through his nose and then shakes his head. He’s overheating everywhere; cock frustratingly hard and wetting the sheets beneath his belly with enough precome to fucking drown him in it.

“No… Sir… _Shit_ , please… I need to come…”

“You don’t need fuck all unless I _tell_ you you need it,” Steve corrects him, snarling. Bucky shivers all over – _fuck, yes, he could be talked to like this all day; how badly he wishes Steve could treat him like this in front of other people, too_. Bucky can hear some fumbling behind him and then the point of their riding crop pressing to the tightly stretched skin of his hole, wrapped nice and wide around the vibrator. Steve starts to trail it up the center of his ass, over his tailbone, and draws lazy designs across his back.

“What do you want, Buck? Hmm? To come? _That’s_ what you’re asking me for?” Steve taunts, chuckling low and dry when Bucky whimpers his neediness into the pillow. He considers begging Steve to bring it down on his skin, hard enough for the lashes and small welts to last _just a little longer than usual_ before his shotty version of Zola’s serum could do away with them. But any time he asks for something, Steve usually denies it to him. Maybe a little reverse psychology would work in his favour. Keeping that in mind, Bucky opts to not answer at all.

It works. Steve makes him pay for his silence by calmly stating in a deadly low voice, “Second time I ask you a question and you deliberately ignore it. Not a very good boy today at _all_ , are you?” Three consecutive smacking sounds fill the room as he hits Bucky’s ass twice with the crop and once over his shoulder blade.

“ _Ah, Christ!_ ” Bucky yelps – not because of the pain (that’s nothing compared to some of the things he’s had Steve do to him before), but because the sudden mixture of the sting and the toy stuffing his hole makes him jerk down into the mattress, and it feels a little _too good_. Eyes widening, he realizes he’s flying over the edge, and he thinks, _Fuck it; might as well enjoy it._ So he quickly breathes, “Sorry, Sir, I’m sorry, I’m fuckin’ sorry, I – _ahhhh_ …” and the squeezes his eyes shut and grinds quick and fast against the bed as he starts dirtying it with his ejaculation.

Steve gets a little strange during times like these, but it’s about the one time Bucky doesn’t mind him breaking character. Because the thing is, Steve has such a soft spot for watching Bucky come – knowing that he’s the cause of it – that he always gets a little tender with him while it’s happening. It’s a drastic contrast to his demeanour only seconds before, but the way he’ll come to Bucky’s side and stroke his hair, kiss along his jaw, while Bucky shudders and gasps his way through it – it only makes it feel better for him.

That doesn’t mean he still doesn’t deserve to get punished, though.

“Greedy little whore is what you are,” Steve admonishes, tone going steely again. He bites Bucky’s bottom lip roughly. Bucky stammers out some semblance of a cry and then moans hotly against Steve’s mouth. He tries to kiss him but then Steve is straightening back up again, giving Bucky’s ass a ruthless pinch while he tosses the riding crop aside for possible later use.

“What do you think that should get you, hmm? Coming without permission? Maybe I won’t fuck you after all. Maybe I’ll make you watch me jerk off until I mark up your gorgeous back… Then make you lie there while I draw you before _leaving_ you in here until I have use for you again. How about that?”

Bucky nods – he shouldn’t, really, because of course, telling Steve that that works from him will only have the opposite effect – but he can’t fucking help himself. Left alone, hard and hurting and covered in Steve’s come while Steve pretended that there were a hundred and one things more important on his list than fucking Bucky’s ass raw? _Christ_ , there was no way a guy like him would ever make it into Heaven, if it in fact existed. He might as well get his one-way to Hell on a fucking I.O.U. because the thought alone is already bringing his cock back to life and he isn’t ashamed of it _one goddamn bit._

Of course, though, Steve knows exactly how to toy with Bucky so that the denial is just as sweet as the acquiescence. Spreading Bucky with one hand, he swiftly pulls the vibrator out of his ass, leaving his body gaping and Bucky flinching with a whimper.

He feels Steve hesitate, even as he _knows_ that his boyfriend’s eyes are glued to his twitching asshole hungrily, so he twists his head as far over his shoulder as he can manage with the bonds and says gently, “It didn’t actually hurt.”

Steve bites his lip, frowning, and glances over at him.

“Steve, I’m fine,” Bucky promises. He gives a small, reassuring nod and then lets his head fall back to the pillow. “So what was that you were sayin’ about punishing me? What else could you do to me, Sir? I was bad, Sir, I don’t deserve your cock…”

“No, you don’t,” Steve says quietly, looking away and then shaking off the moment’s hesitation.

“But maybe later?” Bucky presses.

Steve gives him a stern glare; one that Bucky can feel all the way down to the tips of his curling toes. “That’s for _me_ to decide. If I think you earned it, I’ll _consider_ giving you what you want. And if I don’t?”

“I’ll be grateful for whatever you give me, Sir,” Bucky breathes out the answer, relief making his body relax at the return of Steve’s dominant tone.

Steve nods to himself as his eyes start mapping out what course of action he plans on taking on Bucky’s body. He’s standing there completely in the nude, and honestly, Bucky wouldn’t _mind_ being tied up all day if he was allowed to look at him and just _watch_. Steve’s body is magnificent, always has been. Damn him, though, if Bucky still doesn’t wish he could be running his tongue along every curve those muscles have to offer.

“Alright, here’s what’s going to happen,” Steve finally says decisively. To Bucky’s surprise, he feels the bond around his right ankle come loose before Steve gently slips it off of him. Next is the left, and just like that Bucky’s legs are free. Steve walks over to his flesh hand and works on undoing its binding, too. Steve speaks casually, as though telling Bucky what he wants them to have for dinner: “We’re gonna get you on your back and I’m going to tie you back up. M’gonna wrap that gorgeous cock of yours with a ring, because clearly you’ve shown me that I can’t trust you to follow simple rules. Then those anal beads you picked up last week? They’re going straight up your ass.”

Bucky keeps his eyes – widening with every word – on Steve’s face as his nimble fingers release his metal wrist from the bed post. Bucky breathes out a soft, needy moan and then licks his lips as Steve starts moving him onto his backside.

“You’re gonna watch me jerk off, and you’re not going to say a _word_ or else I’m pulling the beads out and leaving you tied here with a swollen cock for three hours to the nearest minute, and not a second sooner. And I’ll put tape over your mouth so you can’t find some way to talk me into giving in,” he adds quickly, shooting Bucky a flat look. ( _It’s not Bucky’s fault if he’s good with words and Steve’s so easy to take the bait._ ) Under any other circumstances, Bucky would be rolling his eyes right about now. But all he wants to do is breathe, _Yes, please, do that to me…_

Sometimes, he can’t help but be _extra_ thankful that he has Steve in his life – because he’s so fucked up, he isn’t positive there’s another living soul on the planet who wouldn’t go running for the hills at the sight of Bucky’s needs.

Steve starts re-tie his right hand back to the board. “When I feel you’ve had enough, you’re going to hold still and open up nice and wide like my good little boy while I feed my cock into your throat. You gonna be good for me while I fuck your mouth, Buck?”

“Yes, Sir,” Bucky exhales with a rush of air, and already he’s salivating at the thought.

“That’s my good boy,” Steve smiles genuinely. “Left wrist,” he says, tapping the other post. Bucky raises it obediently and the blond starts binding that one. “But I’m not going to come that way, as much as I’m sure you’d like me to. You want to know why?”

“Why, Sir?”

Steve makes sure the bond is secure before bending down and giving Bucky an uncharacteristically soft kiss. Bucky’s body heats from head to toe, filling his stomach with butterflies, as he sighs into it and presses his lips back. When Steve pulls away, his eyes are still closed but he’s smiling.

“Buck, you always taste so sweet,” he whispers, and that’s all Steve – falling out of character _again_ , but Bucky doesn’t mind; not when he talks like that. Then his baby blues open slowly and his smile darkens into a smirk. Bucky swallows hard, pupils expanding so quickly that his eyes look black.

“Because I’m saving that for your pretty little chest,” Steve answers, voice dropping an octave. He stands and starts dragging his fingertips down the center of Bucky’s midriff; middle finger catching in Bucky’s navel as he drags his hand down his abs and then gently over his cock. Bucky tries not to roll his hips into the touch, much like he struggles to keep his legs stock still.

Steve starts to tie up his left ankle again. “See, I know how badly you probably want me to fuck you right now,” he says with a practiced nonchalance. “I bet you’d feel nice and tight for me, wouldn’t you? You’re always so hot and tight inside; like water for a dyin’ man.”

Bucky exhales a tiny whimper and Steve moves to the other foot - the last limb to be re-bound. “But I think what _I’d_ like more is if I kept those cute little beads inside of you while you watched me open myself up; slick you up? Maybe ride your cock while there was nothing you could do but watch? Would you like that, baby – if I fucked myself on your beautiful dick until I was shooting all over your chest?”

“ _Oh god,_ yes, Sir, _please, fuck_ ,” Bucky groans.

“In good time,” Steve replies. He’s rummaging through the drawer of their dresser now, making a show of pulling out each item – the lube, the beads, the cock ring – one by one and setting them down on the bed. Bucky’s back to full hardness now, thanks to his next-to-non-existent refractory period. He can feel the wetness of the sheets sticking to his back from his last orgasm, and what had rubbed into his stomach is now flaking and drying uncomfortably into the hairs beneath his belly button. If he moves a certain way, it pinches lightly, and  _fuck, it feels nice_ , so he keeps doing it. 

“Stop that,” Steve says calmly, catching a glance of Bucky’s squirming. Bucky tries, but his eyes are on those anal beads and it’s difficult not to at least twitch with excitement. They’ve had them for all of nine days and still have yet to use them. He considers disobeying so that he can feel the impact of whatever punishment Steve were to give him next; Bucky’s been dropping hints for almost a month now about wanting Steve to use his favourite dagger to cut some designs into his chest – maybe tonight could be the night.

But then he might not get the beads. It’s dilemmas like that that could drive a man insane.

Steve locks his eyes onto Bucky’s as he pops open the lubricant and squirts a small dollop into his palm. Keeping his gaze firmly on him, he closes his hand around the line of anal beads and starts sliding the lube from the biggest one at the base up to the tip. _Slowly_ , his hand drags back down and then proceeds upwards again – until he’s practically giving it a handjob, just to be an asshole. It’s amazing how his Captain can be _one_ way to the rest of the world, and even have his moments of shyness and hesitancy when with _Bucky_ … only to let that all strip away without even the _hint_ of a blush when he wants to get Bucky’s cock leaking.

Grey eyes trail down to the beads, the sight making Bucky swallow the saliva suddenly pooling in his mouth. Steve arches an eyebrow in amusement and holds the slick toy out before moving them left and right, back and forth, _just_ to watch Bucky’s eyes follow it hypnotically.

“These what you want, baby?” he asks.

Bucky’s erection starts to get shiny around the slit again and his flush – which had only _just_ started to retreat back up his neck – blooms down his chest all over again. All he can do is nod, lips parted and eyes wide. Steve quickly lowers his hand to his side, drawing out a short, confused sound from Bucky’s throat.

“You don’t fuckin’ remember how to answer me properly and I _will_ put these away and walk out of the room, Bucky,” Steve sighs impatiently. He shakes his head with an unimpressed _tsking_ sound. Bucky tries to remember how to form words – his brain still caught up in the surprisingly distracting motion of his lover’s hand swaying the beads from side to side – but his tongue is clumsy. Steve doesn’t even give him a _second_ before he shrugs and goes to put them _back_ on the dresser, coated with lube and all.

“Fine, if you don’t want ‘em…”

“No, please!” Bucky exclaims after him, grateful that his hold on the English language has returned to him. “Sir, I --” He outright _whines_ with frustration and makes a helpless noise in his throat eyes. His eyes are pleading with Steve to have mercy on him – and he’s only _a quarter_ doing it for show. “Please… Please, Sir, I’m sorry. I need you to punish me; I need all those things you said you’d do to me. You’re so kind, Sir,” he starts to ramble quickly. “You’re so good to me, even though I never deserve it. Please… Please, I’ll do better…”

Something flashes across Steve’s eyes again – that split second of, _Am I doing the right thing? Does he really want this? Am I taking it too far?_ Anal beads still in hand, he approached the side of the bed again and then undoes Bucky’s ankles once more. Bucky starts to panic because _shit, no no no –_ he hadn’t meant to say anything that would fuck this to the ground and put a stop to things. He opens his mouth to tell Steve to keep going, when Steve says gently, “It’ll be easier to put them in you if your knees are bent.”

He starts to push back Bucky’s right leg, folding it at the knee (which he presses to Bucky’s chest). The brunet sighs with relief as Steve works up the other leg, now practically bending Bucky in half. Steve pauses and then drags his baby blues up to Bucky’s face. Leaning down, he runs the fingers of his clean hand through his hair.

“You _always_ deserve it, Buck,” he whispers lovingly. It distracts Bucky for _just a moment_ before he suddenly feels the intrusion of the Captain’s other hand slowly pushing the beads into his body. It’s a different sort of feeling, but it feels better and better as Steve continues to work it in; the bigger the bead, the more sensations it brings him when it catches on his rim before popping inside when the muscle gives.

Steve waits until Bucky’s jaw drops into a pitchy gasp to swoop down and plunge his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. Instinctively, Bucky tries to reach forward so he can wrap his arms around his best friend’s neck and pull Steve down so the blond’s body can smother him just the way he likes. Of course, he quickly remembers that he _can’t_ when all they can manage is a weak tug to no avail on the specially-designed cuffs that Stark had made for them. He settles for raising his head off the pillow to push into the kiss as roughly as possible, making Steve grin against his lips.

“Sir,” Bucky gasps when he feels the last bead – nice and round and _big_ and _oh fuck, it feels so nice shoving into him like that_ – strain his hole before the pressure ebbs and he knows only the ring is sticking out of him now.

Steve nods, making a sympathetic sound, and kisses his temples. “I’ve got you, baby,” he promises. He pulls back and examines the look of the final product buried in his lover’s ass and then exhales _fuck_ under his breath.

“You’re a goddamn work of art, Buck,” he exhales in wonderment. “If I left you tied up here just like this, you’d be the greatest artwork I’d ever created.”

Bucky’s body warms at the praise, making him feel dizzy with endorphins. His flush is halfway down his stomach now. He plants his feet back to the mattress so he can wiggle his hips a bit – just because Steve’s looking and Bucky imagines he’ll appreciate the view. The action causes the beads to rub around inside of him… stopping his mobility to a dead halt when his back arches off the bed, a surprised cry ripping out of him when a new sort of pleasure twists and twirls from his insides all the way up to every strand of hair on his head.

“Look at that – look how pretty you are,” he hears Steve compliment by his feet. There’s footsteps across the room and then back again, and Bucky moans with delight at the feeling of Steve taking his cock into his hand… only for it to turn to a sound of distress when his eyes snap open to peer down at the way those artistic fingers are placing the tight cock ring around the base of his erection. Immediately, there’s a pressure and things take a turn for the frustrating.

Bucky hates cock rings. He hates them because he loves them so fucking much. They are both the bane of his existence – for he reacts so acutely to them; feels everything more intensely _as it is_ , let alone when his cock’s becoming swollen with the compressed blood flow and he’s already painfully hard to begin with – and the source of some of his most powerful orgasms.

“What do you say?” Steve asks, coming over and caressing Bucky’s jaw expectantly.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me with that thing one day?” Bucky jokes breathlessly, too focused on struggling to get used to the already-maddening sensation of the ring to pay mind to playing his part of their game.

But then Steve grabs his chin roughly and yanks it so Bucky’s forced to look at him. “ _What_ did you say?” Steve asks quietly, but his face says, _don’t fuck around._

Bucky’s heart starts thumping faster. _Fuck, yeah…_ He can _so_ work with this. Feigning defiance, he licks his lips and quips back, “Sorry, am I s’pposed to _say something’_ in particular right about now?”

Steve knows what Bucky wants whenever his hand is on his face and he purposely argues with him. His hesitancy here isn’t new; it always takes a bit of goading for him to give it to Bucky. So when he gives Bucky’s cheek the most _pathetic_ little smack he thinks he’s been given yet, Bucky scoffs _in his face_ and taunts lowly, “That the best you can do, Rogers?”

 _And that’s a big fucking no right there –_ that _always_ pushes Steve’s buttons, for whatever reason; Bucky isn’t supposed to call him many things when they do this together, but ‘Rogers’ is about the least respectable one. It’s the farthest thing from Bucky acting like a good little submissive should. He watches electricity flash over Steve’s eyes, hardening them. This time, when his hand flies quick and fast across Bucky’s cheek, there’s a sharp _smacking_ sound as the sting takes over the entire left half of the brunet’s face.

The _second_ he feels Steve’s hand make contact and the pain crackles through him like a firework, his head turns to the side with the force of the blows and Bucky _grins_ – eyes closed and mouth open. A breathless gasp escapes him and his cock grows even _more_ engorged in the ring; he involuntarily clenches down on the beads and _they feels so fucking good moving around in him_. He exhales a mixture of a moan and a chuckle and then pushes out, “Thank you, Sir,” with every bit of sincerity that he’s capable of.

“Felt you could be a _little_ more flushed for me,” Steve jokes in a taunting way. They both know that he really only did it because Bucky was practically begging him to, but that’s not how the game works. He leans down and licks a small strip over the bright pink spot where he’d smacked Bucky and then kisses his cheekbone. “Now you keep still and be quiet,” he purrs into the brunet’s ear.

Bucky bites his lip and does his best as he watches Steve straighten back up and take his own cock in hand. He’s watched his fair share of porn – he bets that stocks for Kleenex rocketed when he had first been introduced to the internet – so his judgement is pretty trustworthy when he thinks that a video _entirely_ based on Steve Rogers masturbating would be one of the hottest things anyone’s ever seen. Because Steve gets this look on his face… it doesn’t matter whether he’s being Bucky’s Dominant or if they’re being intimate sans the kinky shit; there’s always a vulnerability and concentration that washes over his features.

He’ll bite his lip and knit his brows, and sometimes his eyes will be closed but others, open while he stares down at his own movements. Bucky may flush pretty nicely but Steve’s _always_ reddened like the stripes on the goddamn American flag, even before the serum. He’ll flush all the way down to his cock; patches and sprinkles of rose that feel scalding to the touch. His muscles accentuate, flex as his hand strokes _up and down_ and twists around the tip. With his other hand, he’ll play with his balls – or, Bucky’s favourite thing to watch, finger-fuck his own asshole if he’s preparing himself for Bucky’s cock. Sometimes, even if he _isn’t_. Steve’s just as much a whore for it as Bucky is, just in a more subdued, controlled way.

It’s beautiful.

He listens to Steve grunt and exhale roughly through his nose, all the while trying to stifle his _own_ sounds so he can be a good boy and follow orders. He wants Steve to tell him how good he is again; wants to be validated for his obedience. Steve is so fucking perfect, and he could hurt Bucky in a million and one ways, and maybe a million ways _more_ , and it would _never_ be like what he went through with Hydra. There are times when he feels so overwhelmed just by fucking _looking_ at Steve when he’s like this – and this is definitely one of those times.

“Sir…”

Steve’s hand doesn’t slow its fast rhythm as it flies over his dick, but Steve shakes his head, not looking up at Bucky as he replies, “I didn’t say you could speak.”

“Sir,” Bucky presses, feeling he _needs_ to voice his thoughts, “ _permission_ to speak then, please? I… I just…”

 _Now_ the blond’s hand slows; Bucky’s tone gets his attention. He looks up at him and gets a look of concern. Bucky gives him a loving smile – which still comes off glossy and fucked out, even though he hasn’t been fucked yet at all tonight and he very well might _not_ – and shakes his head to ward off the doubt before Steve can even start doing it.

“I’m fine,” he assures him. “I just… You’re amazing.”

A small, genuine smile, warm and like sunshine, turns up the corners of Steve’s mouth. He tips his head back, closing his eyes and moaning as he squeezes his cockhead between his index finger and thumb, and Bucky’s own smile drops. He licks his lips, eyes falling to Steve’s dripping cock as he starts to breathe a little heavier again.

“I love you, Steve,” he breathes, transfixed. Steve doesn’t correct him; just drops his head forward again and starts to come closer to him. Hope fills Bucky’s chest. “Can I…?” he starts to ask eagerly. “Can I please suck you, Sir?”

“Yes, baby. You were very good just now; didn’t make no noise at all,” Steve answers. He gets another proud, adoring smile when Bucky makes an embarrassingly _relieved_ sound – as if wrapping his lips around Steve like that is the greatest gift he could ever be given – and lets his mouth fall open.

Getting onto the bed, Steve anchors one knee below Bucky’s armpit and then braces the other on his lover’s chest. He stills his hand at the base of his dick and holds it straight out. Leaning forward and gripping the headboard to steady himself, he starts to rock his hips forward as he traces Bucky’s opened mouth with the tip. Precome smears them and given them a shine, like lip gloss, _only more delicious._ Bucky doesn’t dart his tongue against it like he wants to – but he _does_ stick it out as an open invitation and looks up at Steve with an intense, burning gaze.

By the time Steve _finally_ starts feeding his cock into his mouth, Bucky’s moaning heatedly. He’s pained by the cock ring – he could write a fucking encyclopedia on how hard feeling Steve’s cock in his mouth makes him – but that pain only makes his body’s nerve endings flare up more. He doesn’t take more than what’s given to him; just keeps his head where it is and lets Steve put in the effort. When the tip nudges against the back of his throat, he squeezes his eyes shut as he gags softly. But he’s a little shit, too, because he knows how much Steve falls apart at the twisted pleasure in seeing Bucky choke on him – so he purposely forces his eyes to open again so he can look right up at Steve and make the smallest of coughing noises.

He can feel his throat clenching around Steve. And even though _he’s_ the one at another’s mercy, isn’t that always a thing, that if you asked either of them, they’d probably both admit that it’s _Bucky_ who retains all the control – because when he does things like that and he sees how Steve’s mouth drops open and his eyes widen, like the man beneath the demeanour always forgets how to _breathe_ when Bucky makes him feel so, _so good_ … Bucky knows. Yeah, Steve may be the one calling the shots, but it’s only ever done because he would sooner die than make Bucky unhappy.

“Oh God… Bucky…” Steve groans. He reaches down and gets a hold on the back of Bucky’s head, lifting it a bit and providing it with the support it needs. They lock eyes and Bucky nods, and that’s all the permission Steve requires. He keeps Bucky still and starts fucking into his mouth, intentionally thrusting in as deep as he can go every time his hips undulate forward. Bucky knows he looks good when he sputters and his face goes red; Steve adores it, and it always leaves Bucky feeling lightheaded and tingling on the inside.

The wet sounds the ministrations make are vulgar. It’s impressive that even amidst his large gulps of air whenever they’re afford to him, mixed with Steve’s groans and guttural whispers, _Bucky… Yeah… Oh fuck, oh God…_ Bucky can still hear his heartbeat in his ears. Every moan from Steve is so precious that it makes his purpling cock give an enthusiastic twitch against his belly. His Captain uses his mouth and reaps the benefits until Bucky’s got spit running down his chin and Bucky himself has spiralled into so much ecstasy at being Steve’s plaything, that his eyes are halfway rolled into the back of his head and he’s moaning breathily every time Steve pushes back in.

For a second, his brain can’t even catch up when he suddenly feels the loss of the weight on his tongue – the saltiness of Steve’s skin on his taste buds – as he realizes that the blond has pulled out and is grabbing the lube again. He’s moving frantically as he rejoins Bucky and straddles the brunet’s waist. Slicking up the fingers of his right hand, his ass is on full display as he bends down and starts teasingly lapping at Bucky’s straining dick. At the same time, he reaches behind himself so Bucky can watch his index finger start running circles over his tiny pink hole.

The noise that comes out of Bucky’s throat doesn’t even sound human. It’s embarrassing and pitchy and garbled and _fuck, it’s so fucking hot to watch Steve start pushing that finger into himself… Listen to that hiss from those lips that he can’t see, those lips he can’t see because they’re too fucking busy sucking little kisses onto the side of his cock._ Steve’s being a rotten prick, a _real_ fucking tease, and he’s an asshole, he’s the world’s biggest asshole because Bucky’s cock hurts so much but it feels so good, and Bucky’s died and gone to heaven, he’s sure of it. Maybe he _wasn’t_ always doomed for hell – maybe this is proof that he’s worthy of forgiveness.

He bites back the urge to ask Steve to back up just a bit so he can put his tongue back to use and lick him open; that he can do some of the work, because he really just wants to fucking taste Steve’s ass right now. But he’s a little dumbfounded at the moment; hypnotized by the _in and out_ of Steve’s hand as it works a second finger inside.

Steve groans at the intrusion but revels in the sting. He continues to fuck himself until he can properly squeeze two more fingers in there. “Gonna get you to put your whole fuckin’ metal hand up there one day, baby,” he moans before giving Bucky’s soaked tip a courteous suck, and Bucky _whines_ just at the thought. That’d be new – and Steve’s not usually the one to suggest such _out there_ activities. _He’s breaking Steve down even more_ , and isn’t that enough to make Bucky feel powerful as fuck?

“Oh _fuck!_ ” Bucky suddenly shouts when he feels Steve loop his finger into the ring of the beads and begins to twist them in half circles, causing them to rub his insides in a way that has fire licking up Bucky’s body. Throwing his head back, he moans long and loud. That spurs Steve on; deeming himself properly prepared, he turns back to face the brunet as he squeezes more lube into his hand so he can stroke it onto Bucky’s cock.

Bucky opens his eyes and exhales stuttering sounds with every breath as he watches Steve angle his dick up and slowly sink onto it. They both moan together. Bucky’s heels slide along the mattress uselessly until he decides to bend his knees a bit and dig them into the bed to steady them both. It’s so fucking hard not to start thrusting up into Steve’s body, but he manages. It’s worth it to watch Steve adjust on his own time, which is never very long. Steve’s always been a fucking trooper who could take pain with the best of them. Bucky thinks he might even enjoy it as much as _he_ does.

Steve starts to roll his hips to loosen things up a bit inside. Bucky has to choke down the urge to tell him that _it wouldn’t make a fuckin’ difference anyways_ ; Steve’s always been tight, but after the serum, it’d gotten ridiculous… _Tighter than a virgin_ , no matter how much time was put into prepping him beforehand. _God_ , he wishes he could touch him right now – run his hands all along Steve’s body. Instead, all he can do is whimper hoarse and loud when Steve starts to rise and fall around him, picking up the pace until he’s pretty much _bouncing_ on his dick.

The cock ring is the absolute fucking _worst –_ Bucky curses its existence and everything it stands for, because the whole point is to deny him the right to climax. And that’s all he fucking wants right now; might even kill for it. The minutes pass, and then a whole _hour_ , as Steve alternates his pacing and his movements but never stops riding him to within an inch of his life. He’s forced to listen to Steve’s moans – which Bucky suspects are being laid on thick _just_ to fuck with him – while he’s prohibited from speaking. However, he hasn’t been told he can’t make any noise at _all_ , so he does, and passionately. Whenever Steve picks things up again and bounces quick and rough, Bucky’s neck is arched and he’s screaming into the open air of the room.

“Look what you make me do,” Steve chides him breathlessly. His face is twisted up in pleasure, and he can’t help from throwing his head back and panting out a loud moan when he seeks out that perfect angle that gets Bucky’s cock rubbing against his prostate. He loves when Bucky’s wearing the cock ring because it fattens his already thick dick up even _more_ , and it doesn’t really matter the angle – his sweet spot is _never_ safe or capable of hiding. Reaching behind him, he locates the ring of the anal beads again and starts playing with them. Bucky gasps loudly and stares up at the ceiling, grey eyes bulging from his head.

“I’m supposed to be _good_ ,” Steve growls. “I’m supposed to be better than this.”

“Steve!” Bucky warns him quickly, eyes still stuck upwards as he starts trying to yank on his bonds and break out of them. “ _Sir!_ Please… slow down… M’gonna… No, _shit_ , please…!”

“No coming,” Steve insists quickly, and Bucky _howls_ his disappointment. The blond’s body rolls like a wave crashing on the shore; sweat making his skin glisten and his abs stand out particularly spectacularly. He starts fucking Bucky’s ass with the beads. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, baby… Fuckin’ terrible influence on me. How am I supposed to be able to resist you? You’ve ruined me… Look at what you’ve done…” Steve snarls, his upper lip twitching as he watches Bucky’s face intently; watches how sweetly he’s starting to fall apart but trying so adamantly to keep from shattering completely.

“Good boys don’t do this,” he breathes, unrelenting. “They don’t hurt people; they don’t get fuckin’ turned on by it, that’s for sure… _Fuck… Ah…_ They don’t fuck themselves on gorgeous cocks and hit their pretty faces… _Jesus, Bucky, oh…_ Gonna make me come soon…”

But Bucky’s face is suddenly painting over with shock and panic. He shakes his head quickly and whispers, as if to himself, “No, no, _please_ , no, not yet, not… no… _ah!_ ”

And then his orgasm crashes through his system and whites out his vision as he uncontrollably starts pumping Steve’s ass up with come.

It’s blindingly overwhelming – it usually is when Steve forces the cock ring onto him. He spurts more sticky semen into his lover’s body than usual; thick, fat globs, and the pressure around his base is merciless but it only makes the climax all the more brutally intense. Steve rides him through it like he always does, but he looks just as scandalized that Bucky didn’t listen to what he’d been told. When Bucky thinks he _might_ start to go soft, only a split second after the throes of pleasure start to dwindle down, he yelps at the sensitivity of Steve getting off of him quickly.

“Sir, I’m… _Steve_ , I’m sorry,” he pants, trying to focus again.

But Steve just pulls the ring from off his dick – _fuck, the release is almost as incredible as the orgasm just was_ – and then shoves his knees back to his chest.

“Three strikes,” he reminds him, faking anger, “you’re out.” Tugging on the anal beads, he yanks them from Bucky’s ass and then remarks, “Should’ve remembered to pull these out the second I knew you were comin’; next time.”

Bucky opens his mouth to reply when he fills with excitement – Steve’s fingers are back up his ass as he starts gathering Bucky’s ejaculate and then _coating his own cock with it._ Fisting himself and slicking it up, he angles his dick to Bucky’s hole.

“Make it hurt,” Bucky whispers. “Baby, _please_ ; Sir, fuck me hard.” The last word isn’t even fully out when Steve slams into him. White hot pain thrums up his spine, escaping Bucky in the form of a broken cry.

“ _Oh_ … oh… Sir, please,” he moans wantonly, and then lets out a thrilled squeal when Steve clutches his legs so roughly that they bruise beneath his fingertips, and starts railing into Bucky with no remorse. It hurts and it’s amazing and Bucky _just_ came and yet his dick hasn’t even been given the opportunity to flag down – because Steve’s pretty much jack-hammering into his prostate, making his erection maintain its hardness, even though it’d be easier on Bucky if it didn’t.

He shouldn’t be feeling _this_ close to coming again – it shouldn’t even be fucking possible – and he worries he won’t be able to, even though he’s being forced to the cusp once more. He’s way too sensitive but Steve doesn’t back down. His hole is stretched wide and is more than a little red and flared around the cock keeping him split open, and Bucky starts turning his head from side to side, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Please… please stop…” he keeps groaning, but if Steve actually _did_ , Bucky would probably punch him in the jaw the second his hands were free. Because he _likes_ it when Steve ignores his pleas; fucking _loves_ how it reassures him that this whole thing really _is_ built on trust, because Steve could only continue doing this if he was _comfortable_ now with the knowledge that if Bucky _really_ wanted him to stop, he’d be using their safety word instead.

“You like comin’ so much, you’re gonna come for me _again_ ,” Steve husks, working up quite the sweat. He only continues to speed up, and Bucky knows from the telltale signs that Steve must be close – but he _also_ knows that when Steve wants to force an orgasm on Bucky, Steve never lets himself come until he does first, no matter how long it takes.

“No… Sir… Please, I’m sorry… Was a… _Ah! Mm_ … Was an accident… I… Steve, I can’t…”

Steve just fucks into him harder. The pain gets worse and yet Bucky’s cock gets harder, betraying him and _Bucky fucking loves it for doing so_. He whimpers out high-pitched ‘oww’s every time Steve thrusts in, and his wrists are tugging violently against the headboard – _still_ to no avail. His metal arm whirls and constantly recalibrates in a desperate attempt to find _something_ that’ll work in freeing him. The sound only makes Steve delirious, always _has_.

He moves over Bucky so the brunet’s ass is now lifted into the ear, bending him in half. Steve holds himself up by his palms and stares straight down into Bucky’s eyes as the new angle allows him to ram straight down into him and get the best access to his sweet spot. Bucky tries to surge up to kiss him but can only make it so far. He makes a distressed sound and starts thrashing against the bonds.

“Come for me,” Steve orders, voice as rough as gravel.

Bucky throws his head back and shouts out quick ‘ah’s with every breath, because _he can’t, oh fuck, he can’t, it’s gonna hurt so bad, he can’t, but he’s_ about to.

“Come for me,” Steve growls again impatiently. He punctuates his order with three very sharp thrusts; balls smacking against Bucky’s ass. “ _Come. For. Me._ ”

Bucky does. If he were any more human, he thinks it might’ve killed him. He isn’t able to shoot nearly as much, but his tip still spits out an impressive amount of semen as one of the most painful orgasms he’s ever had stabs him all over. _It feels fucking wonderful_ , and has Bucky whining and making hurt sounds. After about two streams, the rest of his climax dies down to a slow and steady trickle onto his lower belly – the best his body can do at the moments.

Steve mutters a quiet curse under his breath and then pulls back out, leaving Bucky gaping and twitching from soreness. He pumps himself quickly and then groans when he finally comes, too; painting Bucky’s chest with it, just like he’d promised. When he’s finished, he leans down and smoothes all the hair out of Bucky’s face before peppering his mouth with gentle kisses.

“Two seconds, I’ll be right back,” Steve murmurs. Bucky’s eyes are still closed and he’s still trying to catch his breath, so he just nods and listens to Steve’s footfalls as he leaves the room. When he returns, he has some of their aftercare essentials: a small bowl of lukewarm water, a washcloth, some aloe vera, and a glass of ice water. He starts by releasing Bucky’s wrists and then giving them both a small massage, making Bucky hum softly.

Tilting Bucky’s head up, Steve brings the cup of water to his lips and helps him drink it. It’s cool going down Bucky’s parched throat and refreshing. Sighing with content, he flops his head back into the pillow once Steve pulls the glass away and lets himself indulge in the feeling of Steve wiping up the come and sweat off of his skin with the cloth.

“How you feelin’, Buck?” Steve asks softly.

“Mmm…” Bucky hums, smiling like a dope. “Sore… But good; feels nice.”

“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”

“No, Steve, you didn’t hurt me,” Bucky parrots with only a _little_ exasperation. “Woulda’ told you if you did.”

“You know I just like to make sure,” Steve says.

Bucky knows that when they shower next, Steve will _still_ make him stand unmoving so he can check him over everywhere; use gentle fingers to spread him and assess the state of his asshole. Bucky likes when it’s a little flared and puts a sting in his step, but Steve – not so much.

The aloe vera is his favourite part of the aftermath. He gets to laze there, first on his back and then his stomach, as Steve soothes the red marks on his skin with the gel. Steve likes to dote on Bucky during these moments, usually turning it into a full-body massage until Bucky’s either trying to start in on _another_ round or passing out. Bucky’s too sore for option A at the moment, though the thought still crosses his mind. He may be a super soldier, but he’s still human, and he needs to give his dick a rest.

He’s slowly welcomed into the peaceful arms of sleep at the combination of Steve’s hands, his _touch_ , and the feeling of Steve’s lips kissing softly along his back and nape, even though he must taste like aloe vera.

“I love you,” Steve whispers into his ear. Bucky smiles, eyes closed, and hums softly.

“You too, Stevie,” he mumbles, halfway out of it.

“Go to sleep, baby,” Steve encourages soothingly. “When you wake up, I’ll run us a bath and then make us some dinner.”

“Stay… while I sleep…” Bucky slurs before inhaling deeply and turning his face over, getting more comfortable against the pillow.

Steve nods, even though Bucky isn’t watching. He continues to rub Bucky’s back gingerly; presses his thumbs to his spine and slides them up and down, making Bucky let out the smallest of ‘mm’s as he exhales.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Steve promises.

“Steve…?”

“Yeah?”

For a second, Bucky doesn’t reply; he feels heavy, sluggish, and yet light and airy. Steve thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then Bucky manages to mumble nighly incoherent, “…Thank you…” He’s out no more than five seconds later. His breathing slows and deepens, and he looks so peaceful – _always does after they do this._ Bucky never seems to have a single nightmare if he sleeps right after they play. Steve smiles to himself, and kisses Bucky’s cheek. It’s warm, like Steve’s heart. He wonders if Bucky will ever realize _just_ how amazing he is.

“Thank _you_ ,” he whispers. “Sweet dreams.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stucky-inspired image for this story:


End file.
